


Feathers

by skydark



Category: Fullmetal Alcheimst
Genre: M/M, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skydark/pseuds/skydark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone from his past comes to put a new perspective on his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers

Regrets collect like cobwebs in the corner, and soon enough you notice them. You can see them there, just above you head, almost out of reach; and you'd rather ignore them, but if you don't address them they might grow. Taking up more and more of what should be a sterile and logical mind scape; and the bristles of a mental broom hurt. Stiff and scratching, raking over feelings and emotions and stirring up all kinds of dust that was meant to be settled a long time ago.

Support eventually weakens, time takes it's toll on the strongest truss. Time and elements make their mark. The foundation remains true, but the outside influences are unpredictable and hard to control. Without realization or meaning, there are abrupt changes in pattern and things slip into disaray.

He sorted through the stack of letters, a little envious of the prolific nature of them, the crisp penmanship, but really, should he expect any less?

They spoke of both happiness and troubles, all being weathered a world away with a whole new support structure. Fair haired, light eyed, prettily shaped; his brother was doing rather well and thriving in a place so different and strange from where they had originally belonged. But then again, if there was a master of adaption to change, his name was surely Alphonse Elric. He had gone from flesh to steel to flesh again with almost not so much as a bat of an eyelash, so what was another dimension, a parallel universe? It was a piece of cake is what it was.

If only.

He'd driven himself away with inner demons and bitter revelations. Moral outrage and inner loathing, he didn't want to share that, and the selfish bile that clogged his throat whenever she smiled at Al, whenever she laughed or touched his arm, that just made Al's brother see red.

And he's promptly removed himself for the situation; not before a screaming match, not before accusations of betrayal and feelings of abandonment. He'd put half a world between himself and them and in someway felt it wasn't far enough.

But only for a while, only for a very little while.

The letters still found him, made him curl up in regret and sorrow. But what sort of apologies could he make now? Didn't Al see? Al was his whole reason for existence and now Al had a new reason, perhaps a better reason to live his life. No longer bound to his brother by need, no longer caged in a place with no other human contact. What if that was the only reason he needed Ed in the first place?

No, no, please let it be no.

After all, Ed had been the one to sink so low as to dangle his toes in hell (provided there was a hell, it's existence was tied to that dubious and etherial realm known as heaven, so it's very existence was suspect as well, although Ed certainly felt it was real in his youth), and if Al could be free of that taint then shouldn't he take the opportunity, and shouldn't Ed be happy for him?

Yes, no, fuck, he was too old for this shit, he well and truly was.

Here he was, 30 something with enough living for five lifetimes behind him and what did he have to show for it?

An alienated brother, a home that was only a dark mirror of what it should be, countless ghosts haunting him at every turn and a dead once -lover buried with fanfare and woman in white twirling on his grave.

He had nothing.

"Oh but I have you," he crooned to the bottle of scotch, three-quarters empty and siting primly next to a small glass turned on it's side, "we'll always be friends," he promised the bottle, his speech only slightly slurred.

And there it was again, that glow, just out of his peripheral vision. He'd given up trying to turn his head and see it full-on because it was never there once he moved. It must be some halo effect of drunken vision, yes, that must be it. He though, in a detached way, if he could illuminate his vision, especially at night that would save on electricity or candles and how useful would that be? He could make some real money, instead of just squeezing by, but he could make some real money anyway if he'd just get of his self-pitying ass and get on with a life.

That was the problem, wasn't it? He didn't know how to have a life of his own; that was suppose to be Al's job, telling him about having a life instead of getting mixed up with a girl. A girl they didn't even know before, a native of this place, a stranger.

They were no longer their own nation, they were no longer a culture of two.

And shouldn't he, at 30 something, be doing the same thing? He had once, hadn't he? Why had he not thought of that as the grand betrayal? After all, everything he wanted for Al he saw in Alfons.

But he didn't love his brother like that, he couldn't. That wasn't what he wanted for Al. He wanted the normal things for Al, home and happiness and children. Al was on the right track, he found a girl and pushed Ed off the cliff of uncertainty in the process.

Ed hasn't found anyone, or he had, but he'd only gotten them killed.

That was just the way he operated. He tried to set the little glass upright a couple of times; might be easier just to drink from the bottle.

"I'm a selfish prick, Al said so, only not in these letters," he told the bottle. "Al pretends he still likes me, hell even loves me in these damn letters."

It wasn't suppose to be like this. He was suppose to be happy, too. What did it matter now? What did it matter anymore? The growing horror was he had lived for someone else so long he didn't know how to live on his own; and there was no one left to teach him. All those fuckers were at home and he was stuck here with nothing to show for all the years he'd been here.

"All this whiny, pathetic, 'no-one-understands-me' bullshit was suppose to be over in my teens," he told the bottle angrily, "I'm suppose to be an adult now." He sniffled hard and gritted his teeth and wiped his eyes over the back of his sleeve.

"I hate it here," he said, his voice breaking in a disgusting and childish way and he slammed his forehead into the table, "I hate it here and I want to go home."

He sat there, gripping the table edge, and when he felt the hand lightly touch his shoulder he didn't even look up. Nothing would be there, nothing ever was.

Seven months.

He hadn't seen Al in the flesh for the last seven months, ironic that, since he'd beat himself half to death to get him that flesh what seemed a lifetime ago.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And there it was again.

He spun quickly, trying to call on all the speed he'd had in his youth and he glared at the corner; the empty corner that was always empty every time he glared at it. And how dare it! How dare it still be that way, when he was so sure, so positive there were eyes there, watching him. He clutched at his shirt front, scratched at his chest through the thin fabric and let his eyes dart back and forth across the room.

Holy hell, had Al been his only sanity?

He turned away again, shook his head and headed into the small bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, (after wiping it with the corner of a towel with questionable cleanliness to be able to see into it). He didn't look much better that the towel. He rubbed at his stubbled chin and signed, then turned to lean over and start the tub. He plunked himself down on the toilet seat and noticed the bottle nudged up against the corner of the tub and reached down to pick it up. It was about three quarters full, and probably only that way because it had been forgotten for the better part of the week, here in the bathroom.

Waste not, want not. He worked the lid off and tilted his head back, drinking straight from the bottle because the tiny bit of self preservation he had left wouldn't let him use the dingy cup that sat by the sink. He got through a good bit of it before remembering to shut off the water. Then he had to remember to actually take off his clothes. He eased down into the hot water and let his head clunk back against the yellowing and cracked tile that surrounded the tub. He put his mismatched feet up to either side of the faucet and let his eyes slide closed. Dulled by the alcohol he could almost imagine himself to be in a good place. On his own, working in a large city (if he'd only get around to finding a descent job), doing all the things a man his age should be doing. Except being in love, having someone to come home to, he hadn't mastered that.

Al has messed that all up.

He reached up and dragged a wet hand down his face. Time to stop being a fucking whiny assed baby and blaming things on Al. What the hell, was that all there was to him?

He felt very cold for a moment, despite the hot water.

"The fuck?" he half choked out loud, startling himself at the sudden voice in the room, (before realizing it was his own), "Am I in love with my brother? The fuck, the fuck..."

No, that wasn't it, it wasn't.

What the hell did it matter anyways. He was feeling decidedly muzzy and the water was still pretty warm, and he managed to snag the bottle he'd sat on the floor when he'd climbed into the tub and finished it off. And after a bit, nothing mattered, and that was good for a while.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air was sweet and he clawed toward it, there was an arm behind his shoulders and his cheek fell against a chest. He could feel the cloth there dampen and cling and he snorted water and coughed and scrabbled at the body beside him.

"Calm down," a voice said softly just above him, (must be the person who's chest he was getting all wet), "I've got you."

Those five little words ran over every muscle in his body and he just went boneless, lying there and being held up in a tub of cool water. He didn't really feel the need or strength necessary to open his eyes.

"Look at what you've done," the voice murmured again, "what am I going to do with you?"

Ed's eyebrows furrowed and he snorted a bit more water. The voice was familiar, but not in any way he recognized. There was just something about it there, nibbling at the edge of his brain. There was movement and he half helped as he was lifted out of the bathtub, rubbed down with the towel in a no nonsense way.

"Not sure how clean you're going to smell drying off with this," the voice remarked wryly.

"Only got the one," Ed half snickered and let himself be steered, eyes still closed out of the bathroom and into the single room that served as all of the rest of the run down shanty he dared call an apartment. He fell face first onto his 'bed' (more like a cot left he got rather cheap, it was left over army surplus and it's cleanliness had been questionable from the first moment he brought it into the apartment), when he was released and sighed into the pillow. He felt the sheet being thrown over his legs and he scrubbed his nose back and forth and tried to snort a little more water but failed.

"Well now I've committed," the voice said above him, "and I'll have to see it through. Fortunately I remember how very disparaging you were having to deal in the realm of anything to do with faith, so talking to you reasonably when you can talk reasonably shouldn't be to much of a chore."

But Ed didn't hear this declaration because he was already asleep.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He woke up to church bells and the cackles of demons. Like demons ringing church bells, all for his private pleasure right inside his skull. He ground the balls of his hands, metal or otherwise into his eyes and groaned loudly, rolling over onto his back. Thankfully it was somewhere in the realm of middle of the night still and there was no sunlight seeking his death filtering through the window.

After a few moments of internal grousing and chasing away bell clanging demons with mental sticks, he finally began to push himself into an upright position. He pulled his knees up and put his hands on them, hung his head a bit until the world stopped spinning, then dared, very slowly, to open his eyes.

Everything was pretty much the same, drab and peeling. Alfons sat in one of his salvaged chairs beside an equally salvaged table. The fucker always managed to look so pristine despite the ever lasting dirt everywhere. His door was still closed, and that was good because he couldn't remember locking it. He was still naked and the smelly, slightly crusty towel he had to eventually launder was lying half way over his lap. He picked it up with his thumb and forefinger and let it drop to the floor beside the cot.

He rubbed at his nose after that, and sighed, letting his eyes settle on Alfons again and then remembering at the same time he was naked. It didn't matter how many times they went at it, Alfons still had this prudish streak that made him act all funny and shy when Ed was naked anywhere but the bed.

Alfons regarded him with a slight smile, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap and it struck Ed a little funny. He looked pretty much the way he always did, slacks, suspenders, shaggy hair cut.

And oh yeah, he was dead.

"I'm glad to see you awake," dead Alfons said, "That was some bender you were on."

Ed opened his mouth to reply, and he has a quite sensible reply too, but it got drown out by the blood curdling scream that forced it's way out of his lungs. Alfons jumped and held his hands up, eyes going wide and Ed kept trying to speak to him, but all his lungs wanted to do was force air out of his body in a loud and rapid way. And so all he could really manage was the scream.

"Edward!" Alfons said loudly, patting the air, and this just made Ed scream louder. He jerked his head back and forth through his apartment just to confirm this wasn't hell and he looked at Alfons again and that gave his lungs all the second wind they needed to continue to scream.

"Edward!" Alfons tried again and got up and approached him and Ed slammed back into the corner of his wall and cot and raised his automail foot to kick at him. But that wasn't going to do any good was it? If the scream wasn't keeping him at bay, how would his foot? And besides, being dead, would that really matter to Alfons? But he kicked anyways, still screaming because he hasn't managed to figure out how to switch it off and Alfons stopped before he got to close still patting the air.

"PLEASE CALM DOWN," Alfons screamed to try to drown out his scream and Ed snatched up the pillow and held it in front of himself like a shield. Maybe the stench of unwashed linen could drive away insanity inducing demons, such as this one. But being this was the first dead person that had ever come back to get him, (and maybe rightfully so) Ed wasn't sure how well this would work. So he kept screaming, just in case the Alfons demon somehow lost it's way from barely five feet away, because if Alfons had come to pitch him into hell, well maybe he deserved it, but he wasn't going to go quietly.

"I'M NOT HERE TO HURT YOU," Alfons yelled, and Ed thought that was an ironic thing to say, and he wasn't going to fall for it and the pillow wasn't working and neither was the blanket and he kept trying to push himself into the wall. His screams had started to peter out into frantic panting, but he was sure, if Alfons just gave him enough recovery time, he could come up with a few more. The edges of his eyes felt on fire and he was sure his lids were going to split any moment from being kept open so wide for so long, but Alfons hadn't come any closer and he was looking vaguely upset. GOOD! He should look upset, coming to cast Ed into hell, ok so Ed was to blame for his death, but really, he should feel a little guilty about it.

Alfons seemed to suck in his lower lip and he gave a questioning half smile.

"So, can we talk now?" he said.

"AH! AH!," Ed responded, "LOOK OK I KNOW THAT IT WAS MY FAULT AND EVERYTHING WAS MY FAULT," and he panted some more, licked his lips, found more air, "BUT I TRIED TO MAKE UP FOR EVERYTHING AND YOU HAD A REALLY NICE FUNERAL LOTS OF PEOPLE WHERE THERE AND NOA DID THAT DANCE THING WHICH I THOUGHT WAS REALLY NICE AND HEY I TRIED TO BELIEVE IN HEAVEN FOR YOU, please make this quick and painless, ok? I will try to stop sounding like a coward now."

Alfons had a befuddled look on his face, and he retreated back to the chair he was sitting in before and they both sat and stared at each other for a bit. Ed shifted, pulling the blanket across his lap, wiped at his nose and looked toward the window for a bit, before looking back at Alfons.

"Why are you dragging this out?" he finally said, feeling numb and defeated all at once. Why did he even bother anymore? Where was his struggle, where was his cause? At least now it would all be over.

Alfons sat back, seem to square his jaw and folded his arms.

"First of all," his dead lover started, "I'm rather offended you think I'm here to do you any sort of harm. You know Edward, I loved you, don't look at me like that. How old are you now? Suck it up, you and I both know it was true, and I'm one of those enlightened sorts and we're all about love."

"Yeah," Ed sighed, closing his eyes, "I...I did, too." He opened his eyes again and watched a dead man roll his eyes in exasperation.

"HEY," Ed interjected, "I'm trying here! Ok, fine...I...I loved you, there? Happy you can squeeze it out of me? You are dead, deaddeaddead and here you are still guilting me into being that better person you always thought I would be; well haha! Look how I turned out Mr. Bossy Pants."

"Soooo, you're trying to drink yourself to death to spite me all these years later?" Alfons drolled.

"Shut the fuck up," Ed hissed at the deceased and then wondered it that was some sort of sacrilege, not that he cared if it was, but maybe he should be more respectful to dead people, even Alfons.

"You know," Ed said, letting his head thump back against the wall, "this is one hell of a mid-life crisis, leave it to me!" He threw his hands up in the air. "Look at me, the so called adult who's only wish in life is to go the hell home and see if that bastard Colonel is gray yet! YEAH, how about that? I want to go home where I can be admired and acknowledged for my accomplishments, where Al won't be off with that...that...girl and it can go back to being like it was. But you know what? I KNOW that's bullshit because even if I did make it back, look at me...look at me. It will never be the same, there is no never never land and I'm no Peter Pan. Hell, I don't even have you anymore."

Alfons look had softened, he tilted his head a bit to the side.

"I'm sorry for that," he said finally, "but it was quicker that way..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Ed said, turning his face away. "Let's just drop it. So tell me, what's a perfectly good ghost like you doing in a dive like this?"

"Well for starters, you have your intangible etherial beings wrong, I'm not a ghost," Alfons said with a smile, "and it's funny you should ask..."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ed was brushing his teeth, but staring resolutely at the figure just over his shoulder in the mirror's reflection. He spit and rinsed with a cleaner glass fetched from the kitchen area and then tapped the mirror with the end of his toothbrush.

"You know I don't believe in anything remotely resembling organized religion so just how do I rate an angel again?" he asked, and Alfons arched an eyebrow behind him.

"You were on a path of self destruction...," Alfons started, and Ed shook his head and held up his hand for silence.

"And this concerned your current employer...why? It's not like I'm making any overtures in his direction, so why would he, given your current employer is indeed a factual figment and not a figment figment, which I'm inclined to believe he is, excuse my language, give a damn?" Ed cocked his head at the reflection in the mirror.

The Alfons image in the polished silver backed glass chucked.

"Excuse your language? I think maturing has done a thing or two for you...manner, I never would have thought it," the Alfons-in-the-mirror shook his head.

Ed snorted and threw his toothbrush into the sink, pushed off of it and searched around for his hairbrush.

"I don't believe it," he finally stated, locating said brush and gathering his hair over his shoulder to brush out the ends. "I mean, I suppose it's a nice fantasy and all, but what I really thing is going on here is some mental psychosis."

Alfons folded his arms and worked his jaw back and forth a few moments.

"It's so nice to see how highly I'm regarded in your memories; so tell me what is it about this you don't believe?"

Ed turned to look at him, and gave a smirk. He was half dressed now, wearing fairly clean pajama bottoms and his hair was brushed out. He leaned back against the small bathroom sink and tilted his head to the side as if in deep thought, then he held up a finger.

"Alright, first off? You're dead. Now I know that for a fact, I cradled your bloody, cooling corpse, I was forced to hand you over to an undertaker, I stood by numb and lost while they shoved dirt over the top of this pine box I knew your body was in; I think I can solidly attest to the fact that if you'd still be alive? I'd never have let them do that."

Alfons opened his mouth, expression clouding but Ed held up a second finger.

"I was drunk, ok granted I might not be drunk right now, but I was, and I almost drown myself in the bath. I probably clunked myself a good one of the porcelain tub," he reached up to feel the back of his head," but I don't feel a lump or anything, but that doesn't mean anything. Maybe, and this is just my theory, alcohol has started to rot my brain and what that blow to the head really did was to jog the logical and sane centers of my brain loose and leave me with a functioning portion that conjures up dead lovers to tell me what a moron I'm being."

Alfons moved forward suddenly and he grabbed Ed's nose, pinched it shut tight and held it. Ed's eyes widened, then narrowed and he folded his arms.

"Dis don mean nuffing, you are really here so you aren't really holding my nose closed," he said. "I can waff dis out."

A moments ticked by and Ed was forced to open his mouth. He kept glaring at his delusions who smiled back at him until finally Ed jerked back and clapped his hand over his nose. Alfons studied his nails.

"Proves nothing," Ed growled, "I could be holding my nose myself and just making myself imagine it's you holding my nose closed. I don't think that's any sort of definitive test."

"You can take the boy out of the lab, but you can't take the scientist out of the boy," Alfons sighed. "So tell me, what are the parameters for an experiment that will prove to you that I am here, and while maybe not in the flesh, in a suitable alternative state capable of being tangible and interactive? Does that appeal to your faith shirking sensibilities more?"

"This is ridiculous," Ed edged by Alfons and exited the bathroom, going back into the main room and making to the small hot plate that served as his stove. He sniffed in his coffee pot, emptied it and took it back to his bathroom sink to rinse it and fill it with water, then returned to sit it on the hot plate and turn it on. Alfons lingered nearby, watching without speaking.

"I know what this is," Ed said as he got down a cracked white coffee cup and hunted around for some sugar. "This is some self preservation thing. By imagining the people in my life who gave a damn, I try and bring myself out of this downward spiral I seem to be trapped in. That almost sounds like a sound theory to me. That's it, I'm just imaging the people I miss the most and since all I've done lately is mope over Al my subconscience is taking a break. Really wish it hadn't been you, though. Not because I want to forget you, it's just I miss you more than most."

He heard the sound of footsteps across the scarred wooden floor, he felt the displacement of air at his back, and he felt the arms around his waist and the chin on his shoulder. He heard the sigh in his ear and felt the hairs there move with a breath. There wasn't a sense of warmth at his back, but it wasn't cold either, it just...was. A feeling of almost calm and he could look down and see the arms folded across his body and if he leaned back, just a little, there was support.

How could these things be delusions?

He shrugged then, pulled away and the feeling left him, the arms withdrew and he braced his hands on the counter in front of him, watching the pot on the hot plate.

"Why could you never believe?" Alfons asked behind him.

"It never got me anywhere," Ed returned quietly. "I tried, I think I really did, but then nothing happened and I ended up doing it myself anyways. So I decided I was my own god, since everything that had ever happened to me that meant anything I brought about by myself. I didn't need any outside influences, I was a force of one, I could believe in myself. So what I believe and don't believe is my own gospel and you my friend are dead, and in my gospel dead is dead."

"That is so linear," Alfons said behind him, Ed heard him sigh. "But at least you are consistent in your old age."

Ed whirled again, bared his teeth and hissed.

"What? Are you calling me so old that senility has started to take hold of what little cerebral functions I have and produce for me in my own warped imagination an imaginary, interactive past lover that I can jerk myself asleep to?"

The both stared at each other mutely for a few moment and Ed did a little jump and pointed at Alfons.

"Back, back you demon of cheap whiskey, back into the bottle from whence you came!"

"Did you say something about jerking off?" Alfons said, clasping his hands behind his back and smiling that smile of his. "I remember, in your youth you'd get quite embarrassed if I caught you and then somehow you'd manage to talk me into helping you. I remember a lot about being alive, I think, perhaps, that's why I'm back now. It seems 'moving on' isn't just for living beings anymore."

"I'm not discussing jerking off with a dead man," Ed waved his hands. "So why now? I mean, why are you here now and not oh, many many years ago when you're suddenly appearing before me, fresh after your death might have actually meant something to me. Other than convincing me that I've finally tanked and lost it."

"You're were drowning you moron," Alfons suddenly snapped, hands balling into fist. "Edward Elric, you know, all the knowledge in the world would never be enough to give you some tact!"

"I had all the knowledge...," Ed began.

"Don't start on about that gate, I'm dead and I don't have to listen to that anymore," Alfons waved his arms.

"Ooo no, you don't get to pull the dead card on me," Ed yelled, "since I am arguing with myself then I get to make all the lousy, self pitying comments I want, and you, as my self conjured redeemer get to comfort me and then maybe we'll talk about that jerking off thing. I mean if I'm going to psychotic I might as well make the most of it."

"Maybe I should take you back to the tub and hold you under, then you could join me here and I could get the satisfaction of laughing at your dumb ass," Alfons snarled between gritted teeth.

Ed opened his mouth to retort but snapped it shut again, turned his back and yanked the coffee pot off the hot plate and poured himself a cup.

"Would it kill you to be remotely optimistic, to just for once believe in something outside the realm of your logic? Happy things do exist, you know, as does the afterlife. Just once, try opening up a little, what could it hurt?"

"It could hurt plenty," Ed said, back still to the dead man in his apartment, "it always does when such things are disproven. Why set myself up for yet another spectacular crash and burn?"

"If we're onto metaphors I'd say you're crashing and burning pretty hard as it is," Alfons said, and then Ed heard his footsteps again, (just the foundation settling) and his presence at his back, (just a draft), and his hand on his shoulder, (just a twinge).

"I don't want to believe because it might hurt worse losing you a second time around," Ed said and then took a sip of his coffee.

"Edward," came the whisper behind him and it took him back to a time when he was first in this miserable place. When Al was still far away and when his desperation might have driven him down a worse path save for a pair of blue eyes and an out reached hand.

"You know, you really get the shit jobs, taking care of me, poisoning yourself on rocket fuel, dying, taking care of me...so just what is it you did to your current employer to make him give you the shit assignments?" Ed gave a half bitter laugh.

Suddenly hands closed over his upper arms and he began to shake. Not shake as in tremble but to be physically shaken, back and forth. He spilled hot coffee all down his shirt front and yelped, but that didn't stop the shaking. In fact he was being knocked into the counter as well.

"I don't know why I'm given all the shit assignments," Alfons growled behind him, shaking Ed in the same way you shake a bottle to get the last good bit out, "but it's nice to know that you will go out of your way to make sure they stay shit assignments."

"I think you're here for revenge," Ed half shrieked, coffee cup slipping from his fingers and bouncing off the counter top before tumbling to the floor where is snapped it's handle off,"SEE? You're actually a poltergeist, those are the ghosts things that break things,right?"

"You know, most people would be overjoyed to see someone they loved come back from the dead to keep them from being dead and then, maybe, I don't know, they would talk about how much they missed each other and how much they loved each other. I was even looking forward to some catch-up sex because you know what? The sky is the limit! But oh NO, not YOU, you try to convince me I don't exist and make fun of me! Come to think of it, you did that when I was alive, too!" And Alfons, in a fit of pique, shook Ed harder.

"UNCLE," Ed screamed, "I feel my brain sloshing back and forth in my skull!"

"That's because it's being pickled there," Alfons howled behind him.

"If I'm going to do myself via deranged hallucinations then I want it to be painless," Ed howled louder.

"I'm not a hallucination or a ghost, you luftkopf! I'm an angel, and I don't to have to say it again! Tell me you believe me!" Alfons kept on shaking because it wasn't like he could get tired.

"I don't believe in...OW!" Ed gritted his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. The shaking had stopped but now he had an arm bent behind his back. This fucking figment was sneaky.

He was marched across the room and shoved face down onto his cot and held there, arm still bent up behind his back.

"Say it!" Alfons ordered over his back.

"I won't!" Ed panted, catching his wind after being thrown down. He tried to struggle but whatever self inflicted punishment he was imagining had a pretty damn good grip on his arm.

"You will! For once in your life Edward, believe in something," Alfons demanded.

"I believe I need therapy," Ed yelled, "and I believe you're going to break my fucking arm," he added.

"So if I'm capable of breaking your arm, I must be here, right? Right?" Alfons pressed him harder into the cots thin mattress. "It's always the hard way with you! For once I'm going to win, for once you're going to give in, say it Edward! Say it!"

"Do I have to believe in angels to believe in you?" Ed finally wheedled. "If you're here to save me, you can start by not breaking my good arm, ok? Ok?" Ed turned his cheek against the mattress, still panting lightly. "I know I make things hard, I know you always had to meet me half way... so just give me a little slack. Just a little."

The pressure on his arm eased, and then it was released. Ed sighed and began to wiggle, rolling to get on his back. There he was in a coffee stained shirt and unbuttoned pants, on his back with Alfons looking down at him and it was so familiar, so craved, so tantalizing he wanted to die.

He wanted to believe, and when Alfons smiled and reached to touch his face, he asked himself, just his once, to suspend logic as he knew it. He begged himself to let him believe.

And if he did, and Alfons was still there...

The hand touched his cheek and he turns to lip the palm, another hand moved through his hair, then down the side of his neck and down his arm. The cot dipped a bit as weight settled onto it at his side. The hand he lipped was smooth and tempered. It was neither warm like the living or cold like the dead. There was no smell of grease, no taste of salt, nothing that reminded him of Alfons' hands; or at least nothing that he could remember of Alfons' hands. That saddened him a little.

Alfons leaned over him then and Ed studied the face above him. It was exactly as he remembered it. That part of his memory was alive and well, and he knew contour of Alfons, he remembered every placement of his eyebrow hair, just everything as perfect and original as it had been.

But he knew he was not as he'd been. Older now, worn, barely cognizant of his own body. He remembered when that use to be everything. A body, Al's body, his body... Alfons' touch brought it back with a vengeance. Everything he'd had and lost, all in a touch.

"Ok," he mumbled, "if this is real, and I'm not insane, then... you came back for me. You came back for me and I know you say you love me, and that I do believe, or believed, this is confusing; I guess that should answer my question of why...oh and the saving me in the tub thing, thanks. I don't know why you keep doing it when I didn't do a very good job of saving you."

"You did save me, you just don't realize it," Alfons said, then he lowered his face over Ed's, touched foreheads with him. "There wasn't much that I believed in myself, virtue was something for other people, except when it came to you. It all came down to you and what I did with the time I had left. But, Edward, you are still here... I'm sorry that it failed; the way to get you home, I'm sorry."

Ed pushed up a little, pressing the forehead contact.

"What? No, you goober you did get me home, I just decided to come back," Ed sighed, "but like I said, too little, too late. I'm sorry, I'm sorry that bastard...he got his, I know he did. I'm sorry, I'm the one who is sorry...," and then he surrender his mouth to Alfons' and let himself be pushed back down onto the cot.

 

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For a few moments, there were no words, only soft moist sounds and then the sound of breath being panted as Alfons pulled back up.

"I think you've gotten better," Ed said, eyes closed and faint smile on his lips, "dare I ask who you've been snogging up in... where you are from? Should I feel jealous? Do they give angels kissing classes?" Then Ed yelped and laughed as Alfons pinched his hip.

"You could never just let a moment be," Alfons said fondly, then he rubbed the spot he'd pinched earlier.

"What's the point in that?" Ed murmured watching Alfons rub his hip. "Moments tend to wither and die on their own, you have to breath some life into them."

"My beautiful, brilliant, exasperating, infuriating chemist," Alfons muttered back, "why are you still alone?"

"Who'd have me?" Ed snorted, then folded his arms behind his head. "I think you just named all my best qualities, other than the beautiful thing. I'm hard to get along with, you know that. Anyone who gets close enough realized what an emotional introvert I am. Let met think," Ed pursed his lips. "I did know a couple of girls. One of them said I was to egotistical and my ego threatened the ecosystem, the other said I was a train full of emotional baggage looking to have a wreck at the intersection of drag her down along with me," Ed cocked an eyebrow, "I rather liked that description."

"You have coffee all over your shirt," Alfons said, and reached for the top button, "you should put on something cleaner."

"Who's fault was that?" Ed questioned, not moving to help or hinder Alfons in any way. He tucked his chin down on his chest and watched Alfons hands.

Alfons opened the buttons slowly, one by one all the way down, then he spread the shirt open and ran his hand over the smooth metal of Ed's right shoulder.

"This is new," he said, "I don't remember it looking like this, I remember fighting with a large strap when I wanted to stroke your chest."

"Oh that," Ed said and twitched his nose, "it's a souvenir from home. More durable, more reliable, harder to break."

"That's good,"Alfons said, indulging in stroking down Ed's chest as promised, fingers stopping just above Ed's navel. "It seems like you were always broken. I remember that time your pinky finger kept jerking on it's own, I thought you were going to get in a fight over it at the beer hall."

"That guy was drunk and taking that the wrong way," Ed grumbled. "I thought about force feeding him the damn thing since I had another at home."

Alfons nodded, circled Ed's navel once, trailed his finger over the whispy light hair just below it and down the the waistband of Ed's pants.

Ed licked his lips, and raised his eyes to Alfons face, but he made no other move.

"Humans are so corporeal, flesh and carnal. I remember the way you smell, the heat of your skin, the texture of your hair; but I didn't remember them until now. I didn't remember this life until here. I remembered you, I did, but I was... beyond it. To be here now, in this form again when I've been so long without it?" Alfons let his musings die on his lips and instead he leaned over until the tip of his nose rested on Ed's chest and he inhaled, and the sound alone, with no other stimulation made Ed groan and stir, in his groin.

Alfons moved up then, scooting Ed over a bit, lying his body along Ed's on the cot. It was a tight fit, but it didn't matter for the first moment or two, until Alfons tried to shift and almost rolled off the edge and the cot tittered a moment or two. They both had a moment of panic until they were able to balance themselves again.

"You should at least have a proper bed," Alfons said, half stretched over Ed now, clinging to the opposite side of the cot with the hand that had been resting on Ed's bare stomach.

"What? And miss the look on your face when you almost rolled off onto your ass?" Ed grinned, "Besides, I like this just fine," and he made a show of squirming into the thin padding, "you're stretched out all over me."

Alfons looked at him for a long moment, then pushed up, got to his feet, gripped the edges of the thin mattress on the wire frame, he paused as if ready to preform the 'remove-the-table-cloth-leave-the-dishes' trick, but instead he yanked the pad and Ed off bodily onto the floor. Ed gave a sharp yelp and then a dirty look.

"What did you do that for?" he half growled, rolling onto his side to rub at his tail bone.

"Edward, once we get into that rhythm you always liked so well? The one where you're yodeling at the top of your lungs to the staccato thumps of the head board against the wall? We'd end up here anyways," Alfons smiled his usual pleasant and demure smile.

"You know, why didn't we kill each other all those years ago," Ed snorted. "And I think you're lying to me about your current employer; I think you might be working for the opposition."

"Let's get you naked and test the theory," Alfons said cheerfully, then dropped to his knees and flipped Ed onto his stomach. He then straddled Ed's legs while Ed was momentarily stunned and grabbed the waistband of Ed's pants and started to pull.

Ed scrabbled at the edge of the mattress and looked over his shoulder.

"What the hell...Alfons! Who decided you were going to be on top? I'm the one who nearly drown so I should get to pick! Remember, you always said the one who had the shittiest day got to pick, and I think my day was pretty shitty. He'll my whole life lately has been pretty shitty, I should get to pick all the time."

"Ah Edward, I have you so beat. I'm dead, have been so for quite some time off in angelic la-la land where there make you forget all the really good things like sex and sausages, but mostly sex, so I haven't even touched myself in oh...say... roughly eleven years. I definitely beat you out in shitty days, I get to top."

"That's not fair! I don't think being dead should have any influence on the parameters!" Ed wailed.

"I'll arm wrestle you for it," Alfons said, freeing Ed from his pants and pouncing on Ed's already open shirt, "but I can guarantee you won't win; you know, heavenly powers and all. Hey, we should arm wrestle, I'll finally beat you! And you can use that metal arm, you don't have to use your flesh one!" He rolled a very naked Ed onto his back and grinned down at him, "Do you want to?"

Ed's eyes trailed from Alfons grin, down his own body to his already evident erection and back to Alfons' face again.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Ed boggled, "No I don't want to arm wrestle! So you got heavenly super powers, well guess what, you traded what little mind you have left for them, how's that for equivalent exchange?"

"You're just afraid I'll win," Alfons grumbled, shrugging off his suspenders. "It was always like that, you were so gun-ho about things until you suspected you weren't going to be the best at it and then suddenly, 'ho hum, it's so boring'. Don't think I wasn't onto that. That is why you would never play hearts with me."

"Bullshit," Ed grumbled, "that's not the reason! It's not! This is stupid. I would think after eleven years our foreplay wouldn't consist of us snipping at each other, but you're right, the more things change the more they stay the same."

"You're just a sore loser," Alfons said haughtily.

"Get naked already, you might have all the time in the world, but I don't," Ed groused, then reached to tug at Alfons' shirt.

"Impatient,"Alfons purred, "I like that." He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and let Ed tug it out of his pants, then he stood briefly and let his pants fall to the floor. Ed gave a low whistle of appreciation.

"This getting to reshape your own body thing has it's perks,"Ed told Alfons' suddenly blushing face, "and that's all for me? I'm touched."

"It's...it's not that much bigger than it was before,"Alfons said in a rushed way, "it's not!"

"Oh hey, you don't have to justify to me," Ed said, grinning merrily, "I would have done the same thing given your opportunities."

Alfons sat down again on the bed rather quickly and folded his hands in his lap; it didn't do much to hide his pleasure at Ed's appraisal.

"I'm glad you're still shy about it," Ed said, stretching shamelessly and rolling onto his side, putting his elbow on the bed and then resting the side of his head in his palm. "It's just like I remember."

"Look who's talking," Alfons said, then eyed the parts of Ed's anatomy that were suddenly closer to him. "But...well, I guess you're not such a prude anymore, are you?" He trailed his eyes up Ed's body and back to his face. "You've changed."

"I've had to," Ed said simply. "It's inevitable. It's not like I can just suspend myself in any given moment, not like you have. I'm still human and you're...well, whatever you are now."

"I don't want to get into that again, let's just say... I'm your suspended belief," Alfons said, tapping his chin with one long fingers, "that way, you can keep your denial and I can just be here with you without having to justify every second."

"Fair enough," Ed said and then held out one hand. Alfons took it and allowed himself to be pulled down on the cot, turning to face Ed.

The spent a few moments just touching, Familiarizing themselves with everything they'd know before but was new again. Alfons began to kiss over Ed's face, lip his jaw, nip his chin and Ed ran his fingers up Alfons' neck, into his short hair and down the back of his neck.

"I remember that time..."

"You were so funny, we fell on the floor..."

"Do you remember when we went...?"

"I missed you so much."

"Did I ever tell you I was in love with you?"

So much had just been assumed; and now the realization that things need to be said.

"Maybe...he doesn't hate me so much since he's giving me this second chance," Ed whispered against Alfons lips.

"Or maybe it's my reward?" Alfons whispered back.

"I'm hardly anyone's reward," Ed said, then moved onto his back as Alfons pressed him.

"Shut up, Edward," Alfons said reaching up to grab his wrists and hold them down, "I don't have to listen to you try and convince me how worthless you are when I know otherwise without any uncertainty," and he opened his mouth over Ed's and refused to let him answer.

After a few moments, it didn't matter anymore, anyways. Ed raised his flesh knee, pressed it into Alfons' side and yes, it was there and real and solid. The weight over him, the scent and the mouth over his, he could never imagine this; never mistake this for some delusion of the mind.

He was here, he was real, he came back. He had paradise (or something akin to it, Ed wasn't sure just what it was Alfons had) and he came back. The air in his throat felt thick for a moment, but he lifted his head slightly from the bed, pressed into Alfons' kiss. Anything to convey his joy, how fucking pathetically grateful he was.

He came back for Edward, he didn't leave him here, all alone.

Alfons mouth slid from Ed's lips, across his check, the faint hint of teeth scraped Ed's neck and paused there, to bear down lightly, gently suck and worry that tiny mouthful of flesh. Ed arched up, tugged at his wrists without trying to free them and Alfons answered his request, lying his body flush along his lovers, trapping Ed's (and his own) erection between them. He began to thrust lightly with his hips, pressing himself into Ed's stomach and Ed moaned; a thick, lush sound, bubbling from the depths of his chest.

"Fuck, it's been so long... was it always like this?" Ed whispered, as if afraid of breaking a spell.

"Always this way with you," Alfons murmured, his lips still traveling the area of Ed's neck and shoulders.

"No wonder everything since you left wasn't right, didn't feel right... disappointing," but Ed's voice got lost in another sound, one that spoke of need and wants more clearly than any word.

Alfons finally released his wrists and began to scoot his body downwards, licking, kissing and gently biting along Ed's torso as he went, and Ed drew his knees up, putting his feet flat on the bed, his chest began to rise and fall as he took deeper breaths. He wanted to steady himself, to savor, to make this last and last and last, because, despite it all, somewhere in his stubborn, realistic, logic-fucked cranium, this still might just be some fucking insane dream.

Please don't let it be a dream.

Alfons fingers wrapped around Ed's cock and Ed sucked in a breath and gripped the sheets to either side of him. Alfons lifted Ed's cock, placed his lips over the head and used them to push the foreskin back and he tongued the slit. The fingers of Alfons other hand settled against Ed's inner thigh and the pad of his thumb began a lazy sweep back and forth over Ed's balls.

Not a dream, it's not a dream...PLEASE...what do you want from me? I don't know if I can give you my adoration or my faithfulness, but please, GOD, I can give you my gratitude...

Alfons began to swallow him down, slow and wet and it was all Ed could do not to thrust his hips up, bury himself in Alfons throat, (because even if he was, technically, dead, that was just plain rude), but he could pull on the sheets and babble with no meaning whatsoever, so he did.

"Alfons...it's... FUCK, you still do that and... I thought I remembered but all I've had is... memories not good enough, fuckfuckfuck, please for god's sake, please Alfons..."

But all the pleading in the world didn't seem to phase Alfons, (and Ed began to wonder as his brain swam, if perhaps he'd mistaken a demon for an angel), he kept the same slow pace and finally pulled off Ed's cock with a wet popping sound and wrapped his fingers around the shaft again. He stroked with the same infuriating slowness as he stretched his body up Ed's again to meet his lips. He ran his free hand into Ed's hair and clutched it, holding Ed still, holding him in place, devouring him.

Ed shook under him, eyes sliding shut. He could hear his pathetic, almost dog like whimpers and he kept a death grip on the sheets. Alfons was over him, on him, between his legs; Alfons' hand was handling him intimately, Alfons' breath (if there truly was one) was mingling with his and he was just...alive, despite the fact that Alfons, of course, wasn't.

They'd always been an oddball pair.

The bed dipped, his cock was released and then all the sensation stopped. It was just gone.

It was such a brutal jolt that he didn't realize he was holding his breath until he gasped it out harshly. He didn't open his eyes, he didn't want to see the cracked and discolored plaster peeling off the ceiling or the dim yellow glow of the old bulbs in the domed light fixture. He didn't want to breath in suddenly stagnant air and he could hardly breath already from the crushing blow to his heart and chest. See? See? Crash and burn, that should be your real name; set yourself up so you can watch yourself fall and you do fall, time and time again.

He didn't recognize the thin keen that seemed to fill the room and he refused to acknowledge the wetness in the corner of his eyes. But someone else did.

"Edward?" said a breathless voice and Ed's eyes flew open and he turned his head as a very naked and disheveled looking Alfons came trotting back across the room carrying a bottle.

"I needed...," the Alfons had the audacity to blush, "well we just can't do it dry and I don't think you have any conventional lubricant...but never mind, we'll just use this," and he was on the bed again, pushing himself back between Ed's legs and Ed just stared at him, eyes and cheeks damp.

"What's wrong?" Alfons said, leaning over him immediately, one hand cupping Ed's cheek, his thumb stroking at the wetness there. "Don't tell me you thought I'd left..."

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT," Ed exploded, "What was I suppose to think, you know what I think about this situation anyways," he reached up to scrub at his own face with his palms.

"There is on need for shouting," Alfons said, drawing back a little. "I didn't think... I mean I would think that you've figured out I'm not a illusion? Edward, we're having sex."

Ed shoved himself upright suddenly and grabbed Alfons and hauled him hard against his chest and just held him. Alfons didn't resist; he did make a small squeak which Ed might find funny later.

"You are the biggest moron," Ed half choked. "Even for an angel, always the biggest dork," Ed gritted his teeth and took several deep breaths, looking for control.

"Ed," Alfons said softly, running a hand lightly up Ed's back.

"What about after this?" Ed asked. "After we do this, what happens then? You vanish? Leave me to question myself over and over for years to come? Make it painful to breath? Make the hole in my chest remain a gaping wound? How is that kindness, how is that redemption? Why did you come here? Maybe I was better off drowning...," his voice cracked and he shook and pressed his face hard in Alfons chest, to hide.

"I won't leave you," Alfons whispered.

"How can you say that? How can you promise that? You don't know," Ed said, muffled. FUCK, he hated how he sounded, he hated the sniveling in his voice.

"I won't leave you," Alfons insisted and started to press him back again. Ed let himself be pushed away, lain down on the cot and covered again. Alfons face was only inches above his own.

"I will do, anything in my power, to be by your side," Alfons continued and began to dot Ed's face with small, light kisses. "Do you not believe me? Even I get lonely."

"Believe you," Ed said, hoarse and eyes slitted. Alfons kissed him again, his hand smoothing down Ed's body to reclaim him and Ed arched to it once more. Kissing and rubbing, and finally messing with the mysterious bottle Alfons found who knows where and then Alfons fingers. His balls in Alfons palm, the rubbing and pressing against his anus and the pressure the found it's way slowly inside.

Alfons had a funny little smile on his face, and Ed, despite the haze of lust clouding his eyes managed a slight scowl and licked his lips.

"What?" he croaked.

"You're still tight," Alfons said dreamily. "You really weren't... I mean, after I died and all this time you haven't..."

"You have got a fucking screw loose," Ed groused, "hell and fuck, just keep your mind on what you're doing."

"Oh Edward, you and your limitations," Alfons sighed and pressed a second finger in and Ed swallowed hard and grabbed Alfons shoulders and drew his knees up toward his chest.

"Not...limited," Ed grated out, "practical."

"Square," Alfons countered, "orderly; but that's not a bad thing. Only when we're having sex. It's funny how you'll go off on experimental tangents at other times..."

"Less talk more do," Ed snarled.

Alfons gripped the back of Ed's false leg and lifted the knee over his shoulder with his free hand, sitting back on his heels. He slowly drew his fingers out, wet them again, (what the hell was he using and would Ed get a rash?), and proceeded to slick himself up. Ed watched raptly, lifting his head from the pillow and pushing up on his elbows.  
Now it was Alfons turn to question.

"What?" he said, hand stilling on his own cock, eyebrow lifting.

"I can't watch?" Ed asked, lifting his own eyebrow. "That's quite a specimen you have there, and you say I'm to linear, but here I'm trying to introduce some radical thought, like watching you feel yourself up and you want to question me. I can't win," Ed flopped back on the bed.

Alfons snorted and scooted forward on his knees, leaning over Ed's prone body, lining himself up.

"Mr. Anal Retentive with a sphincter factor of negative 10 is lecturing me on being to stiff," Ed told the ceiling.

"I never said I wasn't stiff," Alfons drawled, then pressed forward slow and steady, breaching the ring of muscle, and sliding at a downward angle into Ed. Fuck, Alfons had learned timing, that meant his jokes might be funny now.

Ed hissed in a long, deep breath, fingers returned to make sure the sheets were dead.

Alfons stopped, leaning forward, letting Ed's knee over his shoulder bear some of his weight.

"It's definitely bigger," Ed gasped.

"Will you stop with that already?" Alfons groaned, "I told you it isn't...it's only a little bigger...ah, Ed..."

"Ok so you got an upgrade, put it to use already," Ed moaned. "I'm not getting any younger, you're not getting any aliver, let's do this," and Ed flexed his back and used his grip on the sheets to pull himself down, as if he could get any further impaled.

"Quit trying to drive, I'm on top, you never just let me be on top, you're always think you have to supervise. I know how to fuck you and make you howl, I've done it before," Alfons gave one little thrust of his hips and Ed gulped air.

"Listen to that, you're not going to blow on me like a fifteen year old virgin, now are you?" Alfons grin was downright wicked and Ed struggled to pull air into his lungs. It was funny how a cock up your ass seemed to compress all your airways.

"You got a lot of room to talk," Ed got out. "I wasn't the virgin if I recall, you even tried to tell me you never jerked yourself off..." then Ed was forced to break off and groan as Alfons moved his hips a bit more.

"Are we going to do this or what?" Alfons groused above him.

"You're asking me? Wasn't the last thing out of your mouth about how much of a control freak I am?" Ed asked, incredulous.

"Right," Alfons said. "You know, I think most people would view this reunion as anything but joyful; but they'd be wrong. I missed everything about you; but I'm not missing it anymore."  
And he started to move, and Ed trembled from antenna to toes.

It wasn't as awkward as Ed remembered; it wasn't as rushed. Time and distance had smooth out the rough edges of what was a heated and hormonally driven act. It started slow and steady, building gradually and rising in a tempo that didn't speak of lust, or fear of being caught. Alfons hands keep rubbing up and down the side of Ed's leg that was draped over his shoulder; his other hand on Ed's hip, as if to steady him, or hold him in place.

What an odd experience to be at least coherent enough to drink in his lover's face. The way his brows tilted upwards in the middle, toward his forehead, the way his mouth was pulled at the sides; the look of pleasurable agony. Ed had always wanted Alfons; always dove headlong into these trysts as if his very life had depended on them; and who knows, maybe it had. But the years had softened him in the ways his youth was sharp, and now he had the maturity to just enjoy his lover.

Alfons eyes met his, and for a moment, he was in that tiny apartment above a flower shop, biting a pillow for fear of Gracia hearing them; understanding what was going on. There seem to be no need for words, he felt no desire to scream his lust had he had back then; and even if he had he felt no need to smother it now. He was past the point of sexual discretion. Instead of trying to peel pain with his voice he could listen to the sounds of his lover. The quick intake of air, the way he held it before rushing it back out. He could hear the sounds, the slap of flesh on flesh.

It was such a different experience to be surrounded during sex instead of just burning.

"Is...is this the only place we agree now?" Alfons asked hoarse and soft and Ed was surprised, but then he shouldn't be. If Alfons could come back from the dead, certainly he could talk during intercourse; Ed was impressed.

"We have always agreed," Ed returned with a grin and a husky laugh. "I've just realized everything else for us is foreplay."

And then, just like that, the need to tell the world he was getting some came back.

"Ok,ok... we can uh, pick this up now," Ed said, licking his lips, starting to counter thrust as best he could from his position.

Alfons nodded agreement mutely, eyes closing and the hand on Ed's hip suddenly moved to Ed's cock, lying there against Ed's stomach. He closed his fingers around it, using the pad of his thumb to push the foreskin up and down a moment before sliding a finger over the head; then his thrusts began to ramp up.

"Fuck, ok, yeah...FUCK," Ed said and then he laughed, throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. This way he could pretend, he could pretend this was when he was new here and it was still raw and Alfons was the only thing that made it better. It just kept building now, no longer languid. Building in stories, each raising higher; if it kept going like this it would crash and fall.

And he wanted it, oh fuck, he wanted it.

He reached up, made a futile grab at Alfons, but Alfons, like himself was bare. There was no shirt collar to stretch, no handle to haul Alfons' lips to his own. He was grasping, he was there clinging by his very fingertips to the ledge and the building was going to fall. Alfons was arching back now and Ed tilted his head down to his chest, forced his eyes open to watch. But he couldn't see, it was all white and glaring and he could make out Alfons' shape against the brightness.

"What...what...Alfons...the fuck," but he couldn't form a complete sentence to ask Alfons why he looked like a generator ready to blow.

And then there was an explosion, a massive displacement of air, and Alfons felt heavier, and oh fuck it was like it drove him deeper. There was a loud scrapping sound and plaster began to rain down from the ceiling. And Alfons kept moving, he kept driving, he kept trying to throw Ed off the building and to his little death.

Two shafts of brilliance seemed to come from Alfons' back and they were bent, curled against the ceiling and then the seem to flex and widen and they came down and as they did Alfons seem to lift and then he came back down and Ed's eyes widened, because there was deep and then fuck, was Alfons trying to make his dick come out of the top of Ed's head?

"Edward," Alfons sobbed and the white things lifted again, toward the ceiling.

"You are fucking kidding meeeEEEEEEEEE," Ed got out as they crashed down again, lifting Alfons and then driving Alfons in again as they raised.

But it was incredible. Insane and illogical and unnatural and just fucking incredible, and he began to laugh again as the wings on Alfons back (Wings! Alfons had fucking wings and they were like flapping and shit while they were having sex and Alfons didn't look like he even knew they were there) slapped over his shoddy assed table on their next descent.

"I still don't believe it," Ed sobbed out through lust and hilarity and then next flap must have hit him just right, because he came, piratically yodeling Alfons' name and another flap or two later, Alfons followed him over, singing his praises as well.

 

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"Sure, he's a little different, and he tends to talk to himself a lot, but I'm willing to put up with some eccentricities to have a mind like that on the team."

 

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"The new job is great, no really...," Ed cocked his head to hold the phone between his ear and shoulder, he made an annoyed swipe at his companion and a woman walking past the phone booth gave him an odd look.

"What? No Al, I know. Of course...I'm just glad I'm still welcome," Ed said quietly, giving Alfons a 'look' that told him to cut it out. Alfons shrugged and smiled, but didn't release the hem of Ed's coat.

"I'll definitely come visit, but I think it's time I do find my own life. I owe it to you as much as myself," Ed said, twisting a finger in the phone wire. "You know I'll keep in touch; I'm just glad you're smart enough to keep me from burning bridges," Ed tried to turn and pull his coat tail from Alfons' fingers.

"I'm running out of time," Ed said regretfully, "and I don't have any more change, I'll call you tomorrow," he promised, both hands on the receiver now. "Around the same time, yeah, I promise. Night, Al." Ed hung up the receiver, sighed and stepped out of the phone booth. He looked around carefully before addressing the young man in the beige jacket and suspenders.

"Quit making my coat tails hover," he hissed. "Everyone thinks I'm a lunatic as it is, and I don't want to be known as a lunatic with special powers or whatever," Ed turned to head for home, knowing Alfons would fall in behind him. "You know, you really should have told me that I would be the only one able to see you."

"What?" Alfons said, "And miss the look on your face when you tried to introduce me around?"

Ed snorted, but didn't look back. He didn't have to look back; he just had faith.

That's what had been missing all along.

And it didn't have to come from a book of holy writings or a omnipotent, invisible presence sitting on a throne in the clouds.

It came from within and without, and with it, he could move mountains.

"And you know what else? You're dead, stay out of the pantry," Ed mumbled as he rounded the corner to head down the block.

"But I like to eat, it was one of the great pleasures in life," Alfons purred from somewhere to his left. "You seem to think I don't care for earth bound things anymore, but your sadly mistaken."

"Of course you didn't care for earth bound things," Ed countered, pushing into his building and heading up the stairs, "You were a fucking rocket scientist for crying out loud."

Mrs. Barber, who had been sweeping the landing, scrambled to get out of his way and shook her head and he turned the corner and headed up to the second floor.

"You know, your deliberate obstinence is adorable in your old age," Alfons said with a grin as Ed took the key to the door.

"Oh yeah?" Ed said pushing into his apartment, "So I'm an old, eccentric lunatic who apparently fucks ducks, you really got to sweep this place up, there's enough feathers in here for me to start my own pillow factory," Ed complained disappearing inside.

Alfons followed him in and closed the door.


End file.
